Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“What the fuck happened?” I asked, flipping on the light as I hit the safety on my pistol.
“I fell out of bed,” she cried. “I think I might have hit the rocking chair.”
I glanced at the tiny rocking chair that she’d had in her room since she was a baby, and decided I was going to burn the fucking thing.
“Let me see,” I said gently as I dropped to my knees, setting the pistol on the floor.
As she pulled her hands away from her forehead, the bleeding got a fuckton worse.
“Shit. Put ’em back.” I sure as hell wasn’t going to touch her face when I hadn’t had a chance to clean up.
“Rose,” I called making Kara jerk.
“Rose is here?”
“What do you need?” Rose asked, coming to the door in her jeans and t-shirt.
“Can you grab me a towel? They’re under the sink in the bathroom.”
“Rose is here,” Kara said in understanding, her eyes wide.
“She’ll be around a bit,” I replied, my cheeks hot.
“Sweet.”
“Here,” Rose said, holding a whole pile of towels. “I didn’t know if you wanted a washcloth or a hand towel or a big one.”
“Hand towel works,” I said, grabbing it off the pile. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” She looked at Kara. “Damn, what happened?”
“I fell out of bed,” Kara said miserably as I moved her hands away and pressed the towel to the cut. “Ow, Dad!”
“You need to keep pressure on it,” I said, letting her take over. “Or it’s not gonna stop bleeding.”
“Head wounds are the worst,” Rose said. “They bleed like crazy.”
“You okay?” I asked Kara, squeezing her knee.
“Yeah.” She sniffled. “It just scared me.”
“I bet. It scared the shit outta me.”
We all grew silent, then, none of us sure what to say. In all the time I’d had Kara, she’d never dealt with me and a woman in her room in the middle of the night. I knew she probably suspected when one slept over if they were still at the house when she went to bed, but she’d never come face-to-face with it. My face grew even hotter, and so did the back of my neck.
“Is it slowing down?” Kara finally asked. She pulled the towel away and I grimaced. The bleeding had slowed a little, but she definitely needed stitches.
“Here, honey,” Rose said, handing Kara a washcloth. “Use a new one.”
“I’m gonna get dressed, princess,” I said, getting to my feet. “Need to go get that stitched up.”
“No,” Kara whined. “Can’t you just tape it? Or use super glue?”
Rose laughed.
“This ain’t your knee, Kara,” I said. “It’s on your face.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well, I do. You need someone to stitch it up so the scar ain’t bad.”
“It’s my face!”
“And I gotta look at it,” I replied as I walked out of her room.
It didn’t take me long to throw on some clothes, and I was putting my boots on as Rose walked back into my room.
“Sorry for the way tonight ended,” I said ruefully. “Duty calls.”
“Oh, quiet,” she said, waving her hand like she was brushing me off. “I had a good time. I just wish Kara hadn’t hurt herself.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“I helped her put some sweats and a zip-up hoodie on over her pajamas,” Rose said as I stuffed my wallet and keys in my pockets. “So she’s all ready to go.”
“Thanks, baby,” I replied, pausing so I could kiss her.
“You better wash your hands,” she said, pulling my fingers away from her cheek so she could kiss my palm. “You smell like you, me, and a faint whiff of condom.”
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Do you need me to drive you guys?” Rose asked as she followed me to kitchen. “She can’t ride on the back of your bike like that.”
“Nah, I’ll take the Mustang.”
“You have a Mustang?” she asked, grinning.
“1964, fully restored, flat black,” I said, glancing at her as I washed my hands. “I told you I like making the old ladies purr.”
“We’re so getting down in the backseat of your car,” she whispered as Kara came down the hallway.
“Sounds good,” I replied.
“Okay, this is really starting to hurt,” Kara complained.
“You ready, princess?”
“Yeah.”
I herded the women toward the front door, turning off lights as we went.
“Send me a picture of your stitches,” Rose told Kara as we walked outside. “I have a gnarly pic of the stitches I got when I was little and we can compare.”
“I’m gonna say I was doing something cool,” Kara replied. “Like jumping off the roof.”
“Why, so you can look like an idiot?” I mumbled, locking the front door. Rose snickered.
“I tripped over my brother’s shoes,” Rose said out the side of her mouth. “And hit my head on the coffee table.”
“Dang,” Kara muttered.
“But I told everyone that I got in a fight.”
“No way,” my daughter said, her eyes wide.
“No one believed me,” Rose said with a shrug. “They won’t believe you, either.”